June 6, 1852
by ColonelDespard
Summary: A very unangsty Barricade Day fic, set in an AU.


**A/N: Written for the Barricades Anniversary in another forum, promptly forgotten, and now here it is. I've been writing a few Courfeyrac vignettes lately - they're like a comfort food, and far better than macarons for the waistline. This is an un-angsty Barricade Day fic. **

"It is time," the English nanny said sternly, "that Master Luc was in bed."

Luc, the cherubic bundle in Courfeyrac's lap, had evidently as little intention of going to bed as his father had of sending him. He hardly had to start up a wail before Courfeyrac, bouncing the toddler on his knee, gave Nanny Hichens a smile and suggested he would carry the boy up to bed himself "soon".

"Soon" might been any time frame at all to the overly indulgent father. Marius always found Courfeyrac's unconventional ways with his children amusing – right now, Madeleine and Jean-Paul were playing billiards a few feet away from them in the gaming room, where he and his friend had retired after dinner. When the older children had arrived, Courfeyrac had played a round or two with his daughter, but had given it up after Mme Courfeyrac had swept in and, with brief apologies, handed him the youngest child.

"You know you settle him so much better, darling," she had said. "Of course," her husband responded readily. "You go and see Mme Dampier and daughter out, I'll look after the little man."

What had followed had been "horsey rides" with Courfeyrac on his hands and knees, hide-and-seek among the aspidistras and card tables, and finally, resisting "More! More, Da!" from Luc, Courfeyrac had settled next to Marius on one of the balloon back chairs while the boy pulled his curls and his father continued the conversation with his friend while deftly restraining the boy whenever the threated to topple to the carpet.

Marius still couldn't quite shake the slight discomfort he had around the child, although he hoped he masked it well. The little blond boy, who shared neither his mother's warm olive skin and blue-black lustrous hair (legacy of an Italian grandmother) or his father's chestnut curls (only greying now slightly at the temples) and green eyes, was very obviously a cuckoo in the nest. He could not talk to Courfeyrac about it, of course, and had barely managed to pluck up the courage to refer to it, in a very circumspect manner, to Bossuet and Joly. He couldn't see how Courfeyrac could wear a cuckold's horns as lightly as any of his hats, but he did so gracefully. Marius had assumed it was out of gallantry he had acknowledged his wife's youngest child as his own, but seeing the two together it was clear he loved the child as warmly as the others.

"Don't trouble yourself over it," Bossuet had said dismissively. "Of course Courfeyrac knows – just as she knows about some of his little adventures…or at least she knows they occur. She doesn't pry, nor does he." And so they left it there. He could not imagine being so blasé had Cosette…no, he couldn't even imagine the idea. It was too ridiculous to contemplate either he or his wife straying, but Courfeyrac and his Isobel seemed perfectly happy with whatever understanding they had, and genuinely and warmly affectionate with each other. The arrangement was a bit too sophisticated – too decadent – for Marius' slightly prudish soul, but he had to admit his friend was very happy in his marriage.

"Look at that!" Courfeyrac said, nodding his head in the direction of the billiard table, both his hands wrapped firmly around the wriggling Luc as the child demanded "More!" of the knee bounces. "Madeleine – isn't she brilliant?" There was a resounding thwack of the balls colliding as she sent them in all directions with her cue, a startled exclamation from her brother indicating the apparent improbability of the shot. "Amazing. I taught her how to play, and once we'd established the basics, she turned around and demanded how I could be so good at billiards and yet so poor at helping her with geometry. It's all geometry and physics, she told me." He laughed in genuine pleasure, the deep creases at the corners of his eyes evident in the merriment. "I don't understand a mite of the work she does in her exercise books or what she and her tutors discuss – she runs rings around the rest of us."

"Her mathematic and scientific skills are exceptional, aren't they?" Marius asked politely. "She is another Ada Lovelace." Courfeyrac's chest puffed out in a display that would have put peacock or pigeon to shame

"Exceptional? Did you hear, Combeferre is trying to alter the admissions practices at the university to get her a place – he thinks she should be a fellow of the _Académie des sciences._ He has taken up her cause with Arago – it is an outrage that so gifted a child should be held back by her sex!"

He was speaking _sotto voce_, but as she lined up her next shot and moved around the table Madeleine threw a warm smile in his direction. There was no questioning paternity in her case – in looks, she too strongly after her father. Not pretty by any means, with her chestnut ringlets framing a face that was too long, a mouth too wide, generous and mobile for any prim standard of loveliness – but with a character in expression and a clever, neat way of dressing for her greyhound frame that rendered her a lively and appealing figure. Her long, attenuated fingers handled the billiard cue with the same skill that they had handled a sextant when Marius had seen her trying to explain its workings to his eldest son, Jean.

"I hope he may have some success with that," Marius said, and was promptly distracted by Luc leaning over and slapping his fat little hand on Marius' lips. Evidently he blamed his father's friend for distracting Courfeyrac from their game. Marius, a father himself several times over, was amused.

He was saved by the reappearance of Mme Courfeyrac, who arrived to the simultaneous sounding of the front door bell. She entered and, lifting a protesting Luc, swung the child with ease on to her hip.

"I'll put him to bed now, my dear – that will be your friends. I'll come down and join you all when he's had his story. Now, kiss your father good night -" she held Luc out in her husband's direction, and the boy presented his father with an enthusiastic and very wet sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"You will stay, won't you, Marius?" Courfeyrac asked, raising his voice slightly over Luc's complaints at having to kiss his elder siblings goodnight as well. "I told the others you'd be here. Poor Enjolras has been on his feet making speeches in the chamber all afternoon following this morning's unveiling of the monument. And Joly probably caught a chill in the Place de la Revolution, I'll need to mix him up a warm punch." It had indeed been an unseasonably cold and rainy morning as they attended the unveiling of the column to commemorate the anniversary of the June Revolution, Enjolras and the other Deputies of the National Assembly taking their place on a covered dais as Charles Jeanne had performed the official unveiling and the President delivered some valedictory remarks. Poor Joly had entrusted his umbrella to Bossuet, and a gust of wind had promptly turned it inside out, leaving Courfeyrac to sacrifice his own to their physician friend.

"It was a dull day, but a good turnout," Courfeyrac continued, stretching his arms up overhead and yawning heartily, moving for the door to the games room as voices were heard from the reception rooms, voices raised in good humour and high spirits. "Ah – Armand? You have the wines set out? Including the 1832 vintage? Very good." He turned and winked at Marius. "I want to see if any of them notice the year. Grantaire probably will, and Combeferre certainly –"

They crossed into the hall and through to the reception room, where they were immediately enveloped in laughter and cheers as the toasts began to go around.


End file.
